manipulated numbers and the continuing housing crisis
fiction
edward w pritchard
For centuries us men have been accused, rightly so, of being dishonest with reporting business numbers in an attempt to manipulate the " Publics" attitudes and buying habits. No where is this blatant spin on reality more nauseous than in the American Housing market where week by week and month by month an army of hired Realty lead hand chosen economists and real estate agents and other experts misstate and misreport the actual dismal state of the American housing scene with manipulated qualified overly optimistic numbers and statistics.
It saddens us to see so many beautiful women are involved in promoting these bogus housing numbers because who is more beautiful and alluring than a beautiful Realtor or Realtist? We had so hoped that when women became involved as equals in business and politics things would change and honesty and integrity would become the new normal in American business and politics. Not so it seems.
Here is what I wrote before about beautiful Realtors and Realists. Beautiful Ladies please tell the truth, we so hate it when you lie to us.
Teri Few, Top Producer
American materialism and the Real Estate Industry
fiction
edward w pritchard
A
sporty classic car, red of course, sauntered the last twenty feet of
roadside and hunched to a stop. A delightful pair of long and alluring
but aloof legs emerged ladylike and demurely from the vehicle.
The
beautiful young woman glanced in the side view mirror, as she exited
the car, and checked the lines of her ensemble. Pythagoras himself would
be delighted and confounded by the lines and curves running the length
of the young lady's body. Unceremoniously, Teri Few Realtor and Realtist top producer,
carrying a sleek notebook and two imported expensive French pens
prepared for combat.
The other expert was approaching
Teri Few here at the Real Estate business scene. The approaching woman was tall, middle aged, nearly 35 Teri
guessed, and had that listless tired look of a woman who had snagged her
man years ago and had given up on fashion; and Teri was sad to observe
the first impression the other woman conveyed to others. Teri instantly noticed
that the woman's left shoe had scratches from top to sole, and worse
the gold bracelet she wore on her right wrist appeared to be 14 carat
rather than 22 or 24.
Still Teri Few must do business
with people like this lady to be successful, so Teri Few nodded heartily,
authentically stuck out her right hand , strode confidently forward, and
in a sincere gesture of friendship and trust, smiled as she looked
directly into the Lady Psychologist's eyes as she listened intently and
with careful concern to what the Lady had to say.
The
Psychologist's client was a plain girl, not blessed by nature with looks
or fashion sense and her appearance reflected that fact. Her clothes
were atrocious, beyond satire, and Teri's heart went out to the poor
girl. As Teri Few shook hands with the girl, the lady psychologist's client Teri had a fleeting thought that
maybe later she could advise the poor girl on make-up, fashion, and the
basics of beauty, and appearance and success.
Later,
Teri Few Realtor knew she had made a strategic mistake. The Psychologist's client
was not a dowdy plain girl. She was a Hill, the richest family in this
State, and the Client was a millionaire many times over.
The dowdy plain girl was with her
psychologist because she wanted an out of the way, white elephant type
house and property near the National Park. Because, Miss Hill was a loner, and enjoyed
solitude and nature, and did not enjoy business confrontation; she had brought
her psychologist along to assist with the Real Estate transaction.
Teri
Few top producing Realtor and Realtist had blundered in her judgment but had still made the sale, at the
asking price and with a little luck could get more referrals from the
Psychologist and maybe, possibly from others in the wealthy Hill family.
Looking
into the side mirror as she entered her car Teri Few Realtor and Realist noticed she had a
streak of dirt under her left eye probably from the tour of the house. Teri few top producing Realtor and Realtist had a black eye but had made the sale and won the commission in spite of her misjudgments and blunders today; things were indeed looking up.
Thursday, May 8, 2014
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
you can't take it with you
you can't take it with you
fiction
edward w pritchard
All auguries suggest things are about to take a tumble to the negative in the stock market and maybe the real economy.
What's your play dear Phillip?
Here's what I wrote before about lady luck. Remember you mustn't take the game too seriously.
famous investors who died broke-part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
Dame fortune smiled on the gambler Charles Deville Wells, the man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo. Small time grifter who spent lavishly but was always endowed with high hopes. British born Wells for a brief time was the toast of France. He came to the casino at Monte Carlo fortified with investor money he had bilked from others by promoting his singing jump rope but instead used the money at the roulette table as he often did. However, on this trip in 1891, luck indeed smiled on him. Five times in a row Wells bet on number 5 and that number hit each times. He turned the bilked 5,000 pounds into a million francs. Then a few months later he won big again. No one could figure out his system. Was the casino in on it to promote breaking the bank, literally throwing a shroud across the roulette table until the house could raise the money to pay him. Perhaps the roulette wheel itself was faulty, although the house routinely interchanged the wheels among the various machines. A dishonest employee? The French are known for their skeptical nature, surely they thought to check into his secrets. In any event Wells had his fame, beautiful women winked at him and a famous song was written about him. [The man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo-1892]. On his last trip to Monte Carlo Wells system whatever it was failed and he went broke. Over the next thirty years of his life Wells spent several years in jail for stock fraud and eventually died down and out in Paris in 1926. But oh what a ride he had back in the 1890's when he sailed into Monte Carlo that second time in a yacht with a beautiful woman and the whole town wanting to be his friend. As for dieing broke- C'est la Vie, mon cheri
end part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
All auguries suggest things are about to take a tumble to the negative in the stock market and maybe the real economy.
What's your play dear Phillip?
Here's what I wrote before about lady luck. Remember you mustn't take the game too seriously.
famous investors who died broke-part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
Dame fortune smiled on the gambler Charles Deville Wells, the man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo. Small time grifter who spent lavishly but was always endowed with high hopes. British born Wells for a brief time was the toast of France. He came to the casino at Monte Carlo fortified with investor money he had bilked from others by promoting his singing jump rope but instead used the money at the roulette table as he often did. However, on this trip in 1891, luck indeed smiled on him. Five times in a row Wells bet on number 5 and that number hit each times. He turned the bilked 5,000 pounds into a million francs. Then a few months later he won big again. No one could figure out his system. Was the casino in on it to promote breaking the bank, literally throwing a shroud across the roulette table until the house could raise the money to pay him. Perhaps the roulette wheel itself was faulty, although the house routinely interchanged the wheels among the various machines. A dishonest employee? The French are known for their skeptical nature, surely they thought to check into his secrets. In any event Wells had his fame, beautiful women winked at him and a famous song was written about him. [The man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo-1892]. On his last trip to Monte Carlo Wells system whatever it was failed and he went broke. Over the next thirty years of his life Wells spent several years in jail for stock fraud and eventually died down and out in Paris in 1926. But oh what a ride he had back in the 1890's when he sailed into Monte Carlo that second time in a yacht with a beautiful woman and the whole town wanting to be his friend. As for dieing broke- C'est la Vie, mon cheri
end part 2
distracted by secret joy I grew contented
distracted by secret joy I grew contented
fiction
edward w pritchard
Distant thunder warmed shallow Lakes and drenched bumping rail road cars pulling cargo round and round long curving embankments on the way to satisfy everyday needs.
In the flash of lightening listen to thunder awaken slumbering animals and remember muted storms at sea.
Rolling thunder enlighten my sleeping character.
Clasp hands behind your head and push elbows sharply back. Send your mind low to the ground in four directions and listen for messages in the songs of the beseeching birds.
Day by day rest easy as the Earth pulls you relentlessly through space toward unknown destinations.
Distracted by secret joy I grew contented.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Distant thunder warmed shallow Lakes and drenched bumping rail road cars pulling cargo round and round long curving embankments on the way to satisfy everyday needs.
In the flash of lightening listen to thunder awaken slumbering animals and remember muted storms at sea.
Rolling thunder enlighten my sleeping character.
Clasp hands behind your head and push elbows sharply back. Send your mind low to the ground in four directions and listen for messages in the songs of the beseeching birds.
Day by day rest easy as the Earth pulls you relentlessly through space toward unknown destinations.
Distracted by secret joy I grew contented.
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
my plan is to do a little sight seeing here at home until the stock and bond markets settle down/ part 3
my plan is to do a little sight seeing here at home until the stock and bond markets settle down/ part 3
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
repost
Twitter is out of it's lock up period today meaning insiders can sell, sell , sell shares they got for next to nothing for being on the " inside" of things.
As goes these "new age" stocks so goes the anemic "real" jobless economy so it seems.
Here's what we wrote before:
All these mobile app and ghost in the machine companies like Facebook, Pandora, Groupon, Twitter and LinkedIn have got me nervous. Does anyone do any actual business anymore?
In the 1955 movie " We're No Angels" Humphrey Bogart plays the convicted Accountant who helps the nice family he stays with while he hides out from the guards at Devil's island, where he is imprisoned for stock fraud. When asked why and how he cooks the books and the balance sheets for the companies he represents suave Humphrey Bogart dryly says " [there are] no factories just stockholders".
That's how these multi billion dollar market cap mobile app ghost in the machine new age companies seem to me, " no factories just stockholders". Not enough hard assets to justify the elevated stock prices and market capitalizations. The new social media companies attract large groups of ordinary followers into a sort of club and then the new generation of social media companies propose as their business model to refer their club members to other potential businesses such as dry cleaners, restaurants and to link job seekers with job providers. Membership and referral fees finance the entire endeavor.
Problem is the club members herded together into the clubs and social networks are having difficulty in starting their economic lives because jobs are scarce. For a hundred reasons real factory jobs no longer exist much in America. The club members are under employed and tapped out.
Does anybody do any real business in America anymore? Don't ask me, I post on a blog while I patiently wait for the imaginary advertising revenues to begin to role in when I attract an imaginary network of followers.
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
repost
Twitter is out of it's lock up period today meaning insiders can sell, sell , sell shares they got for next to nothing for being on the " inside" of things.
As goes these "new age" stocks so goes the anemic "real" jobless economy so it seems.
Here's what we wrote before:
All these mobile app and ghost in the machine companies like Facebook, Pandora, Groupon, Twitter and LinkedIn have got me nervous. Does anyone do any actual business anymore?
In the 1955 movie " We're No Angels" Humphrey Bogart plays the convicted Accountant who helps the nice family he stays with while he hides out from the guards at Devil's island, where he is imprisoned for stock fraud. When asked why and how he cooks the books and the balance sheets for the companies he represents suave Humphrey Bogart dryly says " [there are] no factories just stockholders".
That's how these multi billion dollar market cap mobile app ghost in the machine new age companies seem to me, " no factories just stockholders". Not enough hard assets to justify the elevated stock prices and market capitalizations. The new social media companies attract large groups of ordinary followers into a sort of club and then the new generation of social media companies propose as their business model to refer their club members to other potential businesses such as dry cleaners, restaurants and to link job seekers with job providers. Membership and referral fees finance the entire endeavor.
Problem is the club members herded together into the clubs and social networks are having difficulty in starting their economic lives because jobs are scarce. For a hundred reasons real factory jobs no longer exist much in America. The club members are under employed and tapped out.
Does anybody do any real business in America anymore? Don't ask me, I post on a blog while I patiently wait for the imaginary advertising revenues to begin to role in when I attract an imaginary network of followers.
Sunday, May 4, 2014
I'll collar your fears
I'll collar your fears
fiction
edward w pritchard
I'll come to you in dreams and grab the old white plastic clothes basket with the slits in and around the sides and stand over you and round up and collar your fears and carry them down the creaking croaking steps into the back yard and use the wooden pinched yellow clothes pins to hang your fears on the sagging mushy clothes lines that run down the sloping hills back toward the alabaster stone fences. Be careful when you wake and walk down to breakfast that none of your fears might have fallen from the basket when I was carrying it down the stairs in the dark and your fears might trip you up and cause you to stumble and fall over and over.
If you do successfully maneuver down the stairs in the morning grab a tall chocolaty glass of crunchy steamy scalding Ovaltine to sip and savor as you walk walk round and round the back yard and pick and gather the bright red and orange colored Spring flowers that took root when your fears were blown and scattered from the sagging mushy clothes lines and germinated and grew on the sloping damp yard covered with cold morning dews that beget the wild flowers carpeting your yard all the way down the Hill to the broken crumbling marbled stone fence.
fiction
edward w pritchard
I'll come to you in dreams and grab the old white plastic clothes basket with the slits in and around the sides and stand over you and round up and collar your fears and carry them down the creaking croaking steps into the back yard and use the wooden pinched yellow clothes pins to hang your fears on the sagging mushy clothes lines that run down the sloping hills back toward the alabaster stone fences. Be careful when you wake and walk down to breakfast that none of your fears might have fallen from the basket when I was carrying it down the stairs in the dark and your fears might trip you up and cause you to stumble and fall over and over.
If you do successfully maneuver down the stairs in the morning grab a tall chocolaty glass of crunchy steamy scalding Ovaltine to sip and savor as you walk walk round and round the back yard and pick and gather the bright red and orange colored Spring flowers that took root when your fears were blown and scattered from the sagging mushy clothes lines and germinated and grew on the sloping damp yard covered with cold morning dews that beget the wild flowers carpeting your yard all the way down the Hill to the broken crumbling marbled stone fence.
Saturday, May 3, 2014
a jolly fat man who lets things manage themselves
a jolly fat man who lets things manage themselves
fiction
edward w pritchard
Sometimes a Man must have a hobby if he is to be able to escape work and the pressures of business and politics. Worry and strife have a way of multiplying even if we maintain diversions and routines to separate our problems from our private lives. At such times a man must focus on what is really important.
Herman had fallen out with his boss recently. Now he passionately pursued building his art collection. He also enjoyed dressing up and socializing. Herman's table and liquor and wine collections were famous throughout Germany and Europe and Herman was known as a bon vivant and interesting company.
Still life had become so complicated for Herman. So many responsibilities so many epic problems and concerns. The Americans to the West, the Russians from the East and rats and traitors within the Nazi party. Sometimes Herman thought if he could just talk with the Fuhrer alone the two of them could renew the old magic.
Herman had decided to let things manage themselves some time ago.
Herman was shocked by the turn of events never the less. Arrested and treated as a common criminal by the Americans.
Herman vowed to improve. He spoke with the psychologist every day, followed the routine to get off the morphine that had plagued him since his war injury in the first war and followed the bland diet that the jailers felt he must be on if he was to live through the stress of the trial to be properly judged and hanged.
Summoning his deepest strengths Herman Goring joked and relaxed. Herman managed to make the best of his ordeal of the trial and by shear personality inspire the other defendants and bring some normalcy to his traumatized Countrymen.
Only at night did Herman worry about his Art collection, his house in Ober Salzburg and his defeated Countrymen.
Sometimes in spite of it all it is best to let things manage themselves.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Sometimes a Man must have a hobby if he is to be able to escape work and the pressures of business and politics. Worry and strife have a way of multiplying even if we maintain diversions and routines to separate our problems from our private lives. At such times a man must focus on what is really important.
Herman had fallen out with his boss recently. Now he passionately pursued building his art collection. He also enjoyed dressing up and socializing. Herman's table and liquor and wine collections were famous throughout Germany and Europe and Herman was known as a bon vivant and interesting company.
Still life had become so complicated for Herman. So many responsibilities so many epic problems and concerns. The Americans to the West, the Russians from the East and rats and traitors within the Nazi party. Sometimes Herman thought if he could just talk with the Fuhrer alone the two of them could renew the old magic.
Herman had decided to let things manage themselves some time ago.
Herman was shocked by the turn of events never the less. Arrested and treated as a common criminal by the Americans.
Herman vowed to improve. He spoke with the psychologist every day, followed the routine to get off the morphine that had plagued him since his war injury in the first war and followed the bland diet that the jailers felt he must be on if he was to live through the stress of the trial to be properly judged and hanged.
Summoning his deepest strengths Herman Goring joked and relaxed. Herman managed to make the best of his ordeal of the trial and by shear personality inspire the other defendants and bring some normalcy to his traumatized Countrymen.
Only at night did Herman worry about his Art collection, his house in Ober Salzburg and his defeated Countrymen.
Sometimes in spite of it all it is best to let things manage themselves.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Jesus needs to recruit disciples in modern America; who would he choose?
Jesus needs to choose disciples in modern America; who would he choose?
fiction
edward w pritchard
Part 1
If Jesus needed to pick disciples in Modern America who would he choose? How about a cocaine addicted homosexual who was a genius at improvisation piano playing to get the message out?
Here's what I wrote before about James Carroll Booker who passed away in New Orleans in 1983. Listen to James Booker's piano playing on you tube. Never have I heard that emotion. Could you love someone like Booker if he was one of Jesus' disciples?
How about a piano player to reach a modern audience? If you heard James Booker play at a club in New Orleans in 1979 would his music reach you? Are we all too sophisticated and proper to be followers of the revolutionary Jesus, if Jesus came by today?
What I wrote before about James Booker. See "Jesus the Most Dangerous Man in History" for what I wrote about Jesus being a revolutionary, posted Saturday Feb 27, 2010, also below.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Part 1
If Jesus needed to pick disciples in Modern America who would he choose? How about a cocaine addicted homosexual who was a genius at improvisation piano playing to get the message out?
Here's what I wrote before about James Carroll Booker who passed away in New Orleans in 1983. Listen to James Booker's piano playing on you tube. Never have I heard that emotion. Could you love someone like Booker if he was one of Jesus' disciples?
How about a piano player to reach a modern audience? If you heard James Booker play at a club in New Orleans in 1979 would his music reach you? Are we all too sophisticated and proper to be followers of the revolutionary Jesus, if Jesus came by today?
What I wrote before about James Booker. See "Jesus the Most Dangerous Man in History" for what I wrote about Jesus being a revolutionary, posted Saturday Feb 27, 2010, also below.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
tribute to James Booker, one eyed man, with big hands and no friends
tribute to James Booker, one eyed man, with big hands and no friends
reposted and retitled
fiction
edward w pritchard
Come certain time of night us alone long for music to soothe the ache in our hearts and none ever better than piano blues man James Booker of New Orleans.
Talent incomprehensible back dropped a life bent on destruction. The music bears the sorrow of the piano man's soul. Mostly unheard despite transcendental talent; too much drama distinctly revealed James Booker's silent suffering. Shunned by the world Booker died alone, all in, at the end of his rope.
Walk on the Sunny side of the street dark pilgrim. Ain't no body's business what you do; junko partner see you at St James Infirmary. Play on, play on. Lord look for James Booker; he be the one with the Schlitz beer in hand and a crooked eye patch on the left eye. Lift James Booker out of the wheelchair and back on the piano stool. Many songs are unrecorded.
Lord , Lord, Lord, protect those who suffer inimitably, singing unheard.
end
reposted and retitled
fiction
edward w pritchard
Come certain time of night us alone long for music to soothe the ache in our hearts and none ever better than piano blues man James Booker of New Orleans.
Talent incomprehensible back dropped a life bent on destruction. The music bears the sorrow of the piano man's soul. Mostly unheard despite transcendental talent; too much drama distinctly revealed James Booker's silent suffering. Shunned by the world Booker died alone, all in, at the end of his rope.
Walk on the Sunny side of the street dark pilgrim. Ain't no body's business what you do; junko partner see you at St James Infirmary. Play on, play on. Lord look for James Booker; he be the one with the Schlitz beer in hand and a crooked eye patch on the left eye. Lift James Booker out of the wheelchair and back on the piano stool. Many songs are unrecorded.
Lord , Lord, Lord, protect those who suffer inimitably, singing unheard.
end
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Jesus the Most Dangerous Man in History
Jesus the Most Dangerous Man in History
fiction
edward w pritchard
Being near Jesus was dangerous and lethal to one's past affiliations. When Jesus lead us to a new town, women would often take their families and go into the hills for up to a week to keep husband's and children from his jeopardous influence. In time an element of peril surrounded us, Jesus' followers, for just being near him. Later we were the one's staying in the hills, and places obscure and hidden, for we were forbidden to enter towns, business areas and churches by the powerful local establishment. However despite incredible hardships we were blissfully happy and even obscurity could not stifle Jesus' message which convulsed to be revealed.
Jesus presence had became mesmerizing. When we heard the message of profound truth he taught we only wanted to be near him, abolish our sinful ways and full fill and experience the destiny he promised us. More than one who met Jesusm or even heard of him would abandon a faithful wife, or son and daughter, or Father and Mother in hope of following him about or just doing one deed or small kindness to make his life easier, if only for a moment.
I traveled with Jesus for several years before he recruited the disciples but was forced to leave the group because I was a link to his past, a past which he had forsaken as the power of his message burst from his body. I had been an early friend, arranger, and bodyguard and assisted Jesus as he prayed, studied and meditated. As the aura developed around Jesus day to day I began to taste a fear in the air, the fear of disruption and destruction to every day concerns and matters. Matters such as carrying money, clothes, and personal items became unimportant to Jesus and he bid us to abandon any type of planning as we traveled and trust in things working out without any preparation. We traveled in to unfamiliar towns throughout Judea with no contingencies. My job as arranger was dissolving before my eyes and incredibly the multitudes of followers took Jesus literally and many traveled in fact as wandering beggars but with complete faith and became a community of believers of his word. Jesus walked and we followed. He planned only for the next day but Jesus continued to allow me to go on with my duties as arranger for the time being.
Jesus was always an incredible judge of character and could instantly dig out the hidden obscure motivations of others often with only a glance. Initially however, I would go into a town first, with money and smooth the way for Jesus' entrance. I would meet people, arrange places for us to stay and make plans so we could avoid breaking any Roman local rules and ordinances or upsetting the Jewish hierarchy. I was loyal to Jesus, but eventually even I out of concern for his safety and those of the faithful followers had to say something about the effects on every day concerns the brutal honesty of Jesus' message was causing. The more I fought with myself to stay grounded in everyday matters of business and commerce the further I was driving myself from the bliss of Jesus' community of followers.
If I had to give an example that a modern reader could understand I would say to imagine if a prophet walked from town to town In America in 1968 and gave LSD to every man woman and child over age 16 who wasn't satisfied with his spiritual situation. Jesus wanted to awaken those who were not content, not full of conformity, and not comfortable with their skin and their situation. Then imagine if those malcontents began to spread the word that a teacher was coming who could show a brighter day, had the answers to the meaning of all things and would lead the awakened. Then imagine if Jesus in 1968 had urged those followers to give up their money, jobs, family, health insurance, extra clothes and shaving and make-up kits and walk with him. Often then Jesus would disappear with a few favorites to think and evolve and then return to us and share greater growing insights against the thoughts and beliefs that we had been raised on and were the foundations of our everyday lives. Then imagine if those malcontents began to become perfectly at peace with themselves, selfless, and approached the world with love, joy, peace and goodwill towards all, even their enemies.
Eventually as I returned to Jesus after leaving him to arrange the affairs in the next town we were to enter I would be shocked by his appearance, especially the hollow timeless eyes. He would be sitting alone, deep in thought refusing food or water and then after a while Jesus began to speak. Whatever one was doing became unimportant and the focus would be on the hidden meaning of his words and Jesus would birth ideas and concepts that were earth shaking. Later when I would try to logically fit Jesus' profound teachings into my belief system I would become afraid for us. Because Jesus' message was disturbing, revolutionary, and absolutely and perfectly anti-establishment I often wanted to silence Jesus out of fear for his safety. There were Romans everywhere and they were formidable and they controlled our world. The followers of Jesus became blind to the reality of the Romans however and bathed in the message; I however fought that bath, and drove myself from my friend Jesus, and was left behind, and I could not walk with Jesus any longer.
In a small village , after a very long walk Jesus was sitting in a chair exhausted, for he had been refusing water during the trip. A woman came in, just an ordinary woman, who none of us knew and she poured an expensive ointment on Jesus' head from the Country of India, said to refresh and revitalize. Jesus was grateful and blessed the woman. Later It took me several hours to soothe the irate Husband, whose wife had spent over two years of their savings on the potion. The husband was convinced the wife had gone mad and was threatening to complain to the Romans. This was unthinkable for Roman justice was brutal and swift and the woman, the husband and Jesus would be in grave danger. The Romans were only afraid of two things and that was disorder and chaos and they dealt violently with threats of either. Miraculously I shielded Jesus from himself until he began to recruit the disciples and heal the malcontent-ed, and until it became humanly impossible to stop confrontation with civil authority.
We were walking along an inland sea and Jesus had just recruited two new followers. Jesus knew I was upset because I knew nothing of the men, had not checked them out in advance, as was customary and Jesus had called them in a flamboyant public way which only a year ago he had cautioned against. Jesus was talking very fast to me in private and was convinced that the new man Simon [ later called Peter] would be a key member of the group who could spread the word and message beyond Judea and into the future. I tried to believe but I saw only a humble fisherman, and one with a sour temper. Fortunately no one objected to those two men leaving their boat. They just jumped off the boat and left. They didn't say good bye and they didn't explain to anyone. I often had told Jesus that this type of showmanship would upset the Romans because the recruit's creditors and obligates would complain. Jesus however had taken to answering me in parables that made sense when we talked but later left me holding a handful of water when it came to practical ways to avoid the Roman civil authority.
Jesus and I fell out however over the recruitment of James and John good son's of Zebedee a fisherman also. We were walking past their boat, in a very public place with the usual multitudes and Jesus called both James and John and they just came with us. The Father, Zebedee was a good man, and although he employed other fisherman was devastated by the loss of his sons who he had trained and nurtured to carry on his business. The Father, Zebedee also was not a bad man spiritually, he followed the laws of his people. I found later good Zebedee helped the poor and unfortunate; and as I later brought up to Jesus as Jesus and I argued over the matter Zebedee feared and respected God. The crowds saw this happen and to them such drama was becoming narcotic and the mobs following Jesus craved miracles, showmanship and razz ma taz.
Jesus was alone and it was 1AM when I was able to see him. Jesus was in a small tent, the kind goat herders use and was sitting delicately on a light chair. Jesus looked frail and had a feminine element to himself that day that frightened me more than our problems with the Romans. I had known Jesus back in Nazareth and had often punched and jostled at him and he was robust and strong. As a Carpenter, I often saw Jesus carry heavy logs of wood with ease. Now the aura of death surrounded Jesus, especially at night. I knew Jesus slept poorly and had troubled dreams but his presence to me seemed to spread fear, and potential disaster and I could taste the destruction that surrounded him.
We argued for a few minutes and I told Jesus I couldn't do it any more. Jesus hugged me and bid me follow my own heart, told me he always loved me, and promised I could always come back to the community. I broke the bond between us, I forsook the Love between Jesus and myself. No goodbyes for me to my friends of several years and I had nothing to carry with me anyway so I headed East away, from the direction Jesus was going tomorrow and sought to reclaim my life. Now it was my turn to fore sake my past for I had been one of the first to experience the perfect joy of Jesus presence and I was forsaking it.
A few weeks later I heard through my contacts that Jesus had recruited a tax collector for the Romans to be his chief scribe, Levi known as Matthew. Matthew had left his coins on the table where he worked and just walked off the job. Nothing could be better orchestrated to upset and infuriate the Romans.
Every night now my dreams are alive with the presence of Jesus' death and I fear and tremble for him out of the love I still have for him. Nothing seems real any more but the comfort of the message of Jesus is gone. It all seems like a mirage. The Romans however are every where I look. I can't believe we were able to avoid them these last 18 months because they are easily angered. Everything I believed is gone and I have lost my faith. I never feared death, it is always at hand in our times however, something seems missing. As I face the future I sometimes hope that the new scribe Matthew will be able to write down for others who come later what I could not hold in my mind of Jesus' message. I often pray that others once they experience the bliss of Jesus and his Father's kingdom to come do not backslide like I did because of business concerns but remain faithful to the message and not brood, worry and persecute and strangle themselves with tomorrows disquietations.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Being near Jesus was dangerous and lethal to one's past affiliations. When Jesus lead us to a new town, women would often take their families and go into the hills for up to a week to keep husband's and children from his jeopardous influence. In time an element of peril surrounded us, Jesus' followers, for just being near him. Later we were the one's staying in the hills, and places obscure and hidden, for we were forbidden to enter towns, business areas and churches by the powerful local establishment. However despite incredible hardships we were blissfully happy and even obscurity could not stifle Jesus' message which convulsed to be revealed.
Jesus presence had became mesmerizing. When we heard the message of profound truth he taught we only wanted to be near him, abolish our sinful ways and full fill and experience the destiny he promised us. More than one who met Jesusm or even heard of him would abandon a faithful wife, or son and daughter, or Father and Mother in hope of following him about or just doing one deed or small kindness to make his life easier, if only for a moment.
I traveled with Jesus for several years before he recruited the disciples but was forced to leave the group because I was a link to his past, a past which he had forsaken as the power of his message burst from his body. I had been an early friend, arranger, and bodyguard and assisted Jesus as he prayed, studied and meditated. As the aura developed around Jesus day to day I began to taste a fear in the air, the fear of disruption and destruction to every day concerns and matters. Matters such as carrying money, clothes, and personal items became unimportant to Jesus and he bid us to abandon any type of planning as we traveled and trust in things working out without any preparation. We traveled in to unfamiliar towns throughout Judea with no contingencies. My job as arranger was dissolving before my eyes and incredibly the multitudes of followers took Jesus literally and many traveled in fact as wandering beggars but with complete faith and became a community of believers of his word. Jesus walked and we followed. He planned only for the next day but Jesus continued to allow me to go on with my duties as arranger for the time being.
Jesus was always an incredible judge of character and could instantly dig out the hidden obscure motivations of others often with only a glance. Initially however, I would go into a town first, with money and smooth the way for Jesus' entrance. I would meet people, arrange places for us to stay and make plans so we could avoid breaking any Roman local rules and ordinances or upsetting the Jewish hierarchy. I was loyal to Jesus, but eventually even I out of concern for his safety and those of the faithful followers had to say something about the effects on every day concerns the brutal honesty of Jesus' message was causing. The more I fought with myself to stay grounded in everyday matters of business and commerce the further I was driving myself from the bliss of Jesus' community of followers.
If I had to give an example that a modern reader could understand I would say to imagine if a prophet walked from town to town In America in 1968 and gave LSD to every man woman and child over age 16 who wasn't satisfied with his spiritual situation. Jesus wanted to awaken those who were not content, not full of conformity, and not comfortable with their skin and their situation. Then imagine if those malcontents began to spread the word that a teacher was coming who could show a brighter day, had the answers to the meaning of all things and would lead the awakened. Then imagine if Jesus in 1968 had urged those followers to give up their money, jobs, family, health insurance, extra clothes and shaving and make-up kits and walk with him. Often then Jesus would disappear with a few favorites to think and evolve and then return to us and share greater growing insights against the thoughts and beliefs that we had been raised on and were the foundations of our everyday lives. Then imagine if those malcontents began to become perfectly at peace with themselves, selfless, and approached the world with love, joy, peace and goodwill towards all, even their enemies.
Eventually as I returned to Jesus after leaving him to arrange the affairs in the next town we were to enter I would be shocked by his appearance, especially the hollow timeless eyes. He would be sitting alone, deep in thought refusing food or water and then after a while Jesus began to speak. Whatever one was doing became unimportant and the focus would be on the hidden meaning of his words and Jesus would birth ideas and concepts that were earth shaking. Later when I would try to logically fit Jesus' profound teachings into my belief system I would become afraid for us. Because Jesus' message was disturbing, revolutionary, and absolutely and perfectly anti-establishment I often wanted to silence Jesus out of fear for his safety. There were Romans everywhere and they were formidable and they controlled our world. The followers of Jesus became blind to the reality of the Romans however and bathed in the message; I however fought that bath, and drove myself from my friend Jesus, and was left behind, and I could not walk with Jesus any longer.
In a small village , after a very long walk Jesus was sitting in a chair exhausted, for he had been refusing water during the trip. A woman came in, just an ordinary woman, who none of us knew and she poured an expensive ointment on Jesus' head from the Country of India, said to refresh and revitalize. Jesus was grateful and blessed the woman. Later It took me several hours to soothe the irate Husband, whose wife had spent over two years of their savings on the potion. The husband was convinced the wife had gone mad and was threatening to complain to the Romans. This was unthinkable for Roman justice was brutal and swift and the woman, the husband and Jesus would be in grave danger. The Romans were only afraid of two things and that was disorder and chaos and they dealt violently with threats of either. Miraculously I shielded Jesus from himself until he began to recruit the disciples and heal the malcontent-ed, and until it became humanly impossible to stop confrontation with civil authority.
We were walking along an inland sea and Jesus had just recruited two new followers. Jesus knew I was upset because I knew nothing of the men, had not checked them out in advance, as was customary and Jesus had called them in a flamboyant public way which only a year ago he had cautioned against. Jesus was talking very fast to me in private and was convinced that the new man Simon [ later called Peter] would be a key member of the group who could spread the word and message beyond Judea and into the future. I tried to believe but I saw only a humble fisherman, and one with a sour temper. Fortunately no one objected to those two men leaving their boat. They just jumped off the boat and left. They didn't say good bye and they didn't explain to anyone. I often had told Jesus that this type of showmanship would upset the Romans because the recruit's creditors and obligates would complain. Jesus however had taken to answering me in parables that made sense when we talked but later left me holding a handful of water when it came to practical ways to avoid the Roman civil authority.
Jesus and I fell out however over the recruitment of James and John good son's of Zebedee a fisherman also. We were walking past their boat, in a very public place with the usual multitudes and Jesus called both James and John and they just came with us. The Father, Zebedee was a good man, and although he employed other fisherman was devastated by the loss of his sons who he had trained and nurtured to carry on his business. The Father, Zebedee also was not a bad man spiritually, he followed the laws of his people. I found later good Zebedee helped the poor and unfortunate; and as I later brought up to Jesus as Jesus and I argued over the matter Zebedee feared and respected God. The crowds saw this happen and to them such drama was becoming narcotic and the mobs following Jesus craved miracles, showmanship and razz ma taz.
Jesus was alone and it was 1AM when I was able to see him. Jesus was in a small tent, the kind goat herders use and was sitting delicately on a light chair. Jesus looked frail and had a feminine element to himself that day that frightened me more than our problems with the Romans. I had known Jesus back in Nazareth and had often punched and jostled at him and he was robust and strong. As a Carpenter, I often saw Jesus carry heavy logs of wood with ease. Now the aura of death surrounded Jesus, especially at night. I knew Jesus slept poorly and had troubled dreams but his presence to me seemed to spread fear, and potential disaster and I could taste the destruction that surrounded him.
We argued for a few minutes and I told Jesus I couldn't do it any more. Jesus hugged me and bid me follow my own heart, told me he always loved me, and promised I could always come back to the community. I broke the bond between us, I forsook the Love between Jesus and myself. No goodbyes for me to my friends of several years and I had nothing to carry with me anyway so I headed East away, from the direction Jesus was going tomorrow and sought to reclaim my life. Now it was my turn to fore sake my past for I had been one of the first to experience the perfect joy of Jesus presence and I was forsaking it.
A few weeks later I heard through my contacts that Jesus had recruited a tax collector for the Romans to be his chief scribe, Levi known as Matthew. Matthew had left his coins on the table where he worked and just walked off the job. Nothing could be better orchestrated to upset and infuriate the Romans.
Every night now my dreams are alive with the presence of Jesus' death and I fear and tremble for him out of the love I still have for him. Nothing seems real any more but the comfort of the message of Jesus is gone. It all seems like a mirage. The Romans however are every where I look. I can't believe we were able to avoid them these last 18 months because they are easily angered. Everything I believed is gone and I have lost my faith. I never feared death, it is always at hand in our times however, something seems missing. As I face the future I sometimes hope that the new scribe Matthew will be able to write down for others who come later what I could not hold in my mind of Jesus' message. I often pray that others once they experience the bliss of Jesus and his Father's kingdom to come do not backslide like I did because of business concerns but remain faithful to the message and not brood, worry and persecute and strangle themselves with tomorrows disquietations.
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